


[prompt ficlet collection:] hands of the emperor

by nonisland



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Fódlan Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Don't Try This At Home, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, Multi, POV Outsider, Political Intrigue, Polyamory, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonisland/pseuds/nonisland
Summary: Snippets from prompt memes (all are snapshots, not full fics, hence their getting posted in a bundle).modern AU:which I took and made the “the Flame Emperor is every nonsensical Silver Age superhero plotline where people impersonate their own nonexistent twin siblings” AU I crave, which in this specific case means it’s got bickering at a fancy party [pre-ship]good end:postcanon; in which Claude pays a visit to Enbarrbodice ripper AU:in which Ferdinand gets kidnapped as leverage against his father and can’t manage to be anything other than curious and intrigued about it [pre-ship]
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. flame above the city

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mondegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mondegreen/gifts).



> Decided to do a three-sentence-ficlet Twitter meme while finalizing some work on the accidental novella I wrote, and, well, we all know what happens when I do a “short” Twitter meme. These have been slightly revised and very slightly expanded since I originally crammed them into Four Or Fewer Screenshots; two of them are from an earlier meme and were waiting to a) get longer or b) find friends, and I went with b).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “modern AU”. Listen. I need the superhero AU. I may never write the entire superhero AU, but it lives in my heart, where the nonsense dwells.
> 
> * * *

“I just do not think Flame is going about this the right way,” Ferdinand von Aegir says, snagging a pair of canapés as the tray goes past again and offering one politely to Edelgard.

She takes it and grimaces as discreetly as possible at Hubert through a gap in the crowd. He inclines his head in sympathy without missing a beat in his conversation with one of the mayor’s donors. She appreciates both of these things, more or less equally and both a great deal. Imagining her work without Hubert to provide companionship even as he smooths her way is…impossible.

“I admire her skills, of course,” Ferdinand continues, oblivious. “They are indisputable. But if she has a problem with the mayor’s policies, she should consider running for public office herself, not breaking into privately-owned buildings in order to search for evidence of crimes!”

Edelgard doesn’t grit her teeth, but only thanks to years of etiquette training and a brief stint at finishing school. “You suggest she run for mayor in order to detect which prominent businessmen are exploiting—”

The massive sheet window at the near side of the ballroom shatters, sending glass spraying through the room. Four people in Agarthan helmets drift into the room, the one in the lead with hand still outstretched and wisps of magic still rising from her fingertips.

“— _shit_ ,” Edelgard finishes, etiquette training or no etiquette training. Nobody will hear her over the screams, anyway. She says it again, louder, as Ferdinand twists to shield her with his own body even as he starts pushing her toward safety.

The air tastes like ozone and metal. She can’t see Hubert—couldn’t even if she were allowed to hold still, with how much taller than her everyone else is. She slams her elbow back into Ferdinand’s midriff as hard as she can and refuses to feel guilty for the wounded look he gives her.

“I have to get back there,” she shouts.

“Miss von Hresvelg, it is not _safe_ —”

“I’m not leaving without Hubert.”

Ferdinand looks from her to the flashes of violet-black light rising above the panicked crowd. He squares his shoulders, and Edelgard mentally reevaluates her assumption that his suit jacket had discreet padding meant to flatter him. “I will retrieve him for you.”

She opens her mouth to protest, then reconsiders. Her mask and one of her simpler costumes are in an oversized handbag she’d left tucked behind a potted fern outside the coat check. If she can just get away from her unwanted, clueless, _useless_ self-appointed bodyguard she can be back in moments with no one the wiser. “Fine,” she says instead.

He actually looks shocked before he scrapes together a warm smile for her. “I will not fail you!” he declaims, before plunging upstream into the mass of partygoers.

Shaking her head, Edelgard runs for her gear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely happens to Tony Stark in what is either some variant of Marvel canon or a fanfic I read (probably one of [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala/works?fandom_id=289604)’s), but I cannot for the life of me remember which. That said, if it feels familiar to you, that’s most likely why.


	2. circlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “golden end AU”. This actually does go with a larger project I am already working on, for a change.
> 
> * * *

The imperial crown of Adrestia is a fairy-tale nightmare, half heavy gold and half weightless glitter. Edelgard had worn it, stubbornly, unflinchingly, through the whole war, even on days it must have been inconvenient.

Claude has never had occasion to see the consorts’ crowns of Adrestia before this diplomatic visit, and the sight is…something. The delicate chaplet of silver leaves and fine gold petals, studded with rubies the same red as Edelgard’s robes, looks surprisingly natural on Ferdinand, even with his blazing hair, but Claude has to bite the side of his tongue against a startled laugh at the sight of _Hubert von Vestra_ crowned in gold and flowers.

He manages, more or less, to pull it off. Plenty of things go better in the Adrestian throne room than they would have at Garreg Mach, of course. More’s the pity.

“You know,” Claude says to the room at large, graceful as a stone hurled into a pond, “it would simplify things a lot if everyone took up Adrestia’s approach to government.”

Edelgard’s lips twitch against a smile; Ferdinand completely fails to stifle a laugh. Hubert, of course, sweeps a look around the room, reading whatever objections people might be fighting not to make. Never let it be said that Claude is a bad guest.

They exchange pleasantries after that, and then after a few minutes of making the appropriate noises Edelgard moves to adjourn from the reception hall to her private audience room, which has probably—in Claude’s estimation—no more than two spies watching it, and knowing Hubert, both of them are probably fiercely loyal to the emperor’s person and not her position.

“I will give you an Adrestian knighthood to add to your honors if you repeat your opening remark in front of the latest Rowe heir,” Edelgard says once the four of them are settled. The chairs are comfortable, which is another advantage of this room, and the tea she has steeping is an Almyran blend he’d enjoyed in his more nostalgic moments at Garreg Mach. Very nice. “He might combust from sheer outrage, and then Dimitri would owe me a favor.”

“ _Another_ one?” Claude asks. “I thought Lorenz took care of the last one for him.”

“Regrettably,” Hubert says, “no.”

Ferdinand says sadly, “He knows exactly how rude he can be without fairly provoking a duel, too.”

“Send him to Sreng,” Claude suggests. “There are rumors of an incredible treasure there for anyone brave enough to face the dangers. I’ll draw him a map.”

“I’ll suggest it to Dimitri,” Edelgard says. She hadn’t been with him that trip—they’d rarely dared take all three commanders on any mission where they had to leave most of the army behind—but they’d all heard about it.

She picks up the teapot to pour and Claude notices a new ring on her right hand, next to her signet. “What’s—oh, _very_ nice,” he says. It’s silver, or maybe white gold, with a massive ruby flanked by—he squints, but he’s no Hilda and he’s sitting a good three feet away anyway—a black stone, probably sapphire, and what’s either topaz or a fire diamond. “Gorgeous ring design.”

“Even the Alliance can’t complain about a few pieces of jewelry, surely,” Edelgard says with a faint smile as she hands him a cup.

“You might be right.” Claude winks at her. “And if they are, that’s on their own filthy minds, isn’t it.”


	3. the eagle in the forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “bodice ripper AU” which I stared at for a while before deciding some kind of Robin Hood deal. I wrote this this afternoon and immediately decided I needed to write an entire novella with this premise, and then firmly squashed that further down on my to-do list.
> 
> * * *

“You know,” Ferdinand says, as evenly as possible given that he is presently bound hand and foot while upside down over the back of a trotting horse, and that he is devoting much of the rest of his attention to not giving excessive notice to how well-muscled the leader of these bandits is despite the rather _noticeable_ fact that her thigh is directly in front of his face, “I am quite certain that there must be some way to go about this that does not involve abduction and, hopefully, ransom. What exactly is it that you hope to accomplish?”

The leader says nothing, but the man who appears to be either her lieutenant or her bodyguard says, “It is a personal matter, and not your concern.” His voice has the silken rasp of a sword being unsheathed, and Ferdinand might shiver, if it were not for the blasted saddle knocking the breath out of him with every jolting step.

Also— “Well, you have abducted my person, and sent my retainers back to my father’s home with a message, so I believe it _is_ my concern,” Ferdinand points out, quite reasonably in his opinion. He can hardly be said to be intruding, when he had simply intended a ride through Hresvelg Forest while his father tended to Imperial business, and is only now bouncing along on this rather inferior horse because he was snatched from the back of his own palfrey by a coil of what he suspects to have been sorcery. His father would dismiss such a thing as nonsense, but Ferdinand himself is not so ready to, and will be diligently observing every twitch and flex of the lieutenant’s black-gloved fingers. It is not as if such a course of action will be a hardship, after all, but that still does not resolve the more urgent question of what is _happening_.

“My name,” begins the bandit leader, only to be interrupted by an urgent “My lady!” from her lieutenant. She ignores him and presses on. “My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. That should answer your questions.”

Ferdinand is rather afraid his mouth is hanging open unattractively, and closes it quickly before he can bite his tongue. “I was told you were dead!”

It had been nearly fifteen years ago, and her hair had been a different color, and he had—he had _mourned_ her. His father had taken him to her grave, in fact, to leave a clumsily-woven wreath of midsummer flowers, though only the once. Hubert had retreated to the Vestra country estate, and his father had refused visitors. For all Ferdinand had known, Hubert might have died as well. He had been much shorter then, and his voice much less thrilling, but of course if the bandit leader is Edelgard her lieutenant cannot be anyone else.

“As you see,” Edelgard says coolly, despite the tension Ferdinand can feel in every line of her body, “I am very much not.”


End file.
